In 1968, my then “expectant” parents saw the outdoor
performance of “Unto these Hills”. Supposedly,
the reenactment included the story of “Tawnda”.
Rumor has it my name was sealed at that event. The tagline for the historical outdoor play,
still going on in 2012 reads: The story
of the Cherokee people through the eons, through the zenith of their power,
through the heartbreak of the Trail of Tears, to the present day.
For most of my life, I’ve thought my given name was somewhat
prophetic. “Tawnda”, was long said to be
the name of a young Cherokee Princess struggling on the Trail of Tears. Existence of a “Tawnda” in either Cherokee
history or Indian Lore has not been validated, despite my limited efforts. Regardless, the name I long abhorred strangely
seems to fit. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trail_of_Tears)
.
Tonight, standing at the kitchen sink, with Christina Perry’s
“A Thousand Years” in the background – the taste of salt on my lips was
relentless. Streams flowed down my cheek
like a raging river. Some of the flow
ended on my lips, forced to taste. Some
tears dropped like rain on the stainless steel basin and splattered like
bloodstain. The “saltiness” has never
been more prominent. I’m a prolific “cryer”
– so I know these tears were different. Why?
Is it…
- The broken, wounded heart of
one so innocent and loved so dearly?
- The agonizing “waiting” my
closest friend is experiencing? The
“waiting” that just a few days ago was not even close to mind?
- The hurtful tone of
another in my direction today? The
hurtful tone of one of my dear friends – over a trivial PREFERENCE?
- The misery of some close
to me…. Waiting? Watching? Feeling backed in a corner so that sin
is their only perceived option? (Me, realizing sin is NEVER the right
response – and knowing full well the consequences and guilt will far
outweigh the momentary relief?)
- Phone calls for
rescheduled CT scans – unexpected, out of the blue?
- Longing to be a better
wife – better Mom - better “Mimi” - better friend – better niece – better granddaughter – better daughter-in-law,
- better Homemaker – better financial
manager – better at working out – better at “doing it all” …and realizing,
time, distance and circumstances in some cases – act as the “lid”? Wondering what I can change, let go of?
- Wishing for more hours in
the day? (Wondering if those hours
were granted, would they just become filled with column fodder or would I
select and prioritize more wisely?)
- Wondering why my inbox
never seems caught up? Wondering why
my errand list never ends? Wondering
why I feel there aren’t enough minutes in the day, days in the month,
months in the year?
- How can I do it all? How can I do it well? (This is an anthem too often
played). Is a crazy, busy life a
life that’s full and pleasing to God? (NO)
But, as the waterworks continued and my mind took the time I
too often deny - a story I hadn’t thought of, in years, came to mind. As a small child, I vividly recall my grandmother
telling me about her and Papa working at a shipyard in Brunswick. Since they were working in the brutal South
Georgia heat, in the direct sun – their supervisors gave them frequent salt
tablets. The salt tablets were to evoke
thirst….the thirst would keep them and other laborers hydrated. Ultimately, the salt led to a thirst for
water which preserved their lives. Why she told me that story – I don’t
recall. Maybe we were looking at old
black and white photos as I often enjoyed doing – and that story came as
narration for some. Regardless, it impacted
me tonight – out of nowhere.
Are tears God’s mechanism for ultimately hydrating us? It makes
total sense. Most, but not all of my tears tonight
were “others” focused –not necessarily in response to direct pain. (Although, as a wife, mom and close friend –
it’s hard to tell the difference at times.)
I would so gladly stand in for the storms that my babies face but as I
was reminded on Sunday – the safest place for parents to be is out of God’s way. (Ah –
finally, an area in which my parents excelled.)
It’s no secret to those around me – I’m a bit of a crybaby. This week has elicited many tears – tears of
joy and thanksgiving, tears of compassion, remembrance, and yes – even tears of
frustration. (Those are self-centered.) Whatever the catalyst for tear-stained cheeks
and tear-splattered sinks, I’m seeing their purpose in a different light. Those tears that penetrated my lips and
touched my tongue are no different than the salt tablets given to shipyard
workers in the 1940s. My tears are to
make me thirsty…. To make me crave THE life sustaining “Living Water.”
…time for a trip to The Well.
t
“Come, everyone
who thirsts,
come to the waters;
and he who has no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without price. [1]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
for my people have committed two evils:
they have forsaken me,
the fountain of living waters,
and hewed out cisterns for themselves,
broken cisterns that can hold no water. [2]
They
shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore;
the sun shall not strike them,
nor any scorching heat.
17 For
the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of
living water,
and God will wipe away every tear from
their eyes.” [3]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
put my tears in your bottle.
Are they not in your book? [4]
[1]
The Holy Bible: English Standard Version.
2001 (Is 55:1). Wheaton: Standard Bible Society.
[2]
The Holy Bible: English Standard Version.
2001 (Je 2:13). Wheaton: Standard Bible Society.
[3]
The Holy Bible: English Standard Version.
2001 (Re 7:16–17). Wheaton: Standard Bible Society.
[4]
The Holy Bible: English Standard Version.
2001 (Ps 56:8). Wheaton: Standard Bible Society.
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